Moriarty's Musician

Chapter 1: Monster in the Library, Part 1

"There you are, darlin'," he whispered as he watched her come out of the office and place a stack of books on the library desk.

He smiled as stray mahogany curls caught up in a neat bun, gently touched her face with every movement of her head. Even her delicate features, hidden under thick-rimmed glasses, made him long to see her without them. She was delicious. And it was a wonder how he had kept his distance for so long?

He stroked his finger over his lower lip and his mouth curled at the edges. Everything was about to change and he felt almost giddy from the thought. His smile grew as he studied her, but it didn't last long. In an instant, James Moriarty's lips thinned and a coldness settled over his eyes.

"All clear, Annie. This is the last of it."

Annabelle looked up at Nicholas and frowned at the books filling the old book cart he pushed out of the office.

He smiled at her reaction. "Oh, it's not so bad. You'll be done in no time." He swept up one of the books and pretended to study the spine.

Annabelle grimaced as she walked over to him and stuck out her hand. "Give it."

Nicholas obeyed, flashing a smile. "Oh, come on, Annie. You know I wouldn't leave you to re-shelve this mountain by yourself." His demeanor turned serious, but as she glanced up at his face, she saw a glimmer in his eyes.

"Alright, what's it going to cost me?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

He selected another book from the cart and flipping through the pages, looked up at her through his batch of chestnut curls.

"Once we're done, you're having dinner with me. Not sometime or maybe one day. Tonight, Annie."

She raised an eyebrow before a slow smile spread over her mouth. Nicholas Byron, her first real friend since arriving in London, was endearing with his mop of hair and bright blue eyes. It was easy to like his boyish grin and good nature. Secretly, Annabelle enjoyed his attention, he was a welcomed distraction. Of course, he wasn't anything like her music. Music was the only thing she had always needed close, her one salvation to push the misery away. But that was then. There was no going back.

She sighed deeply and rubbed her temples. Maybe she should go out with him and try to forget her past. It might actually do her good to have some fun for once.

Nicholas tapped his foot as he waited, crossing his arms while his mouth set in a tight line. With a long exhale, he came around the cart and plucked the book from her hands. She flinched as he reached up and lightly touched her cheek.

"You mean so much to me, Annie," Nicholas said. His gaze rolled over her face before settling on her mouth. His head lowered.

And Annabelle's eyes widened.

She set her hands on his chest and pushed him with enough force to send him backward into the book cart that made the stack of books topple to the ground.

"What are you doing?" she snapped.

Nicholas awkwardly righted himself and after fixing his shirt, ran his fingers through his hair. "Obviously, I was trying to kiss you," he replied, his voice trembling with anger.

Annabelle brushed past him and knelt to stack the books back on the cart. "Well, cut it out. I don't like you that way, Nicky," she said.

"Why don't you? What's wrong with me?"

Still kneeling, Annabelle looked up at him. Why didn't she like him? It wasn't as if he was ugly. In fact, many girls thought he was quite handsome. He was always open and cheerful, always teasing her and trying to make her laugh. And though she didn't let on, she knew Nicholas spent hours waiting around the library for her to get off her shift. He was an excellent catch by anyone's standards, so why did she only ever think of him as a friend?

Waiting for her answer that never came, Nicholas sighed, walked over to Annabelle, and held out his hand. Hesitantly, she placed her fingers in his and let him help her to her feet. But when she made to pull her hand away, he didn't let go.

He smiled faintly, lifted her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

"Annie, look at me," he said.

She swallowed and slowly raised her eyes. Nicholas inclined his head. "I'll wait for you. I'm in love with you, Annie. I've never felt this way about anyone."

Annabelle grimaced. "Don't wait." It almost hurt to say the words, but she knew she must. "I only see you as a friend."

She pulled her hand from his and an overwhelming sense of loss gripped her chest. His one confession had changed the dynamic of their friendship. Nicholas had admitted his true feelings, and she wished he hadn't. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed her glasses higher on her nose, turned her back on him, and began navigating the wobbly, squeaking book cart down the library aisle.

"You can do better than me," she called over her shoulder.

Nicholas silently watched her go and shaking his head, he turned and angrily pushed out the library doors.

The bang of the heavy metal door reverberated throughout the library, but Annabelle didn't stop. She took a deep breath and continued pushing the cart down the musty aisles.

The overhead lights were dimmed to encourage the library patrons to leave. But Annabelle didn't bother to turn them back on once they left. She rather liked the alone time and the quietness that lingered between the bookshelves. It was just as well that Nicholas had gone. Now she could finally be alone with her thoughts.

She stopped the cart, and lifted one of the heavier books, squinting under her glasses as she tried to make out the small category numbers on the spine.

"Okay, this is going to take all night," she muttered.

She steered the old cart toward a group of tables and the wheels creaked as they labored under the weight of the books. But Annabelle hardly noticed. If only she had known Nicholas's feelings earlier, she might have saved him the disappointment. She couldn't love him. She wasn't sure she could love anyone that way.

With a deep exhale, she scolded herself for her wandering mind. If she didn't finish shelving the books, it would be midnight before she got back to her flat. She pushed the hair from her eyes and growled a little as she clicked on a table lamp. The light cast an eerie glow in the library, but it was just enough to read the numbers.

She flipped the book over to scan its cover, and a smile immediately curled her lips. An image of a beautiful violin beckoned her to stroke the cover. And she did. Touching the instrument's long graceful neck, she imagined the violin was there in her hand, its strings stretched invitingly under her fingertips.

"Find what you were looking for, kitten?"